No Man's Land
by Migratory
Summary: Pestilence walks the trenches and encounters the inevitable horsewoman. War/Pestilence.


As he buttoned his jacket, Pestilence felt a moment's nostalgia for the old uniforms. He'd always felt that red suited him, and enjoyed the irony of a scarlet disguise. In comparison the muddy khaki of the modern soldier seemed drab and peasant-like, although admittedly the hat was rather dashing and a definite improvement on the elaborate helmets of a few years ago.

Satisfied that he looked like a human soldier, Pestilence stepped out of the supernatural plains and into a trench. A moment later a hand rested lightly on his shoulder and he turned, not really surprised.  
'I though you'd turn up,' said War, smiling. 'In person, I mean.'  
Pestilence nodded. 'There's no way I'd miss this one.'

She was wearing a soldier's uniform too, but the effect was very different. The thick material didn't flatter in any way, but somehow the tiny hints at her curves were more revealing than a dress. Her hair was mostly hidden beneath a metal helmet but tiny bits poked out, bright red against the dull brown background of this part of the world. Her hand was still on his shoulder, and the gentle pressure made him want to reach out to her. But first they both knew that there was work to be done.

'Was it you,' she was asking, 'who told them bullet wounds would be sterile?'  
'No,' he said. 'They though of that one by themselves. Did you stir things up in Sarajevo?'  
'Nope. I think that would stray into the whole 'free will' minefield.'  
'Speaking of which...?'  
'Yeah,' she said. 'I did help with the mines. They're good, aren't they?'  
He nodded in professional admiration. 'Very.' He began walking along the trench. 'Is _He_ around much?'  
'Not really,' she said, following him. 'Obviously he's maintaining a presence, but we don't see much of each other. He's got plenty of work here though,' she added. 'And Famine drops by occasionally just to make sure he's not forgotten, but he's not taken that much of an interest so far.'  
'Wait till winter comes. Supplies must already be low, and the farms have all been deserted.'  
'I know. I'll probably take some time off, but I wouldn't be surprised if you and he hadn't sorted the whole matter out by the time I get back.'  
'No,' said Pestilence. 'This one's going to last.' Coming to a ladder, he climbed up and over the top of the trench. He stood up straight, shading his eyes against the setting sun as he looked over No Man's Land. None of the humans on watch noticed him – they never did when he didn't want them to.

War climbed up beside him. 'Good, isn't it?'  
'It's... impressive, yes. You'd never think mud could be so dangerous. All those bacteria just waiting to cling to a bullet.'  
She hit his arm, but not hard. 'I meant the trenches, and the wire. The things that have appeared within the last thousand years, not the bloody mud.'  
'Bloody mud,' he said slowly. 'Indeed.' He made an effort and brought his thoughts back to the present. 'You've done well. I haven't seen anything like this in a long time.'  
'Well,' she said, 'you've done your bit. Gas gangrene's a nasty one.'  
'They'll work out how to treat it, though,' he said.  
'That's life,' she said. 'Or existence, anyway. You seen enough?'  
'Nearly,' he said. 'I need to go to one of the hospitals.'  
'That could wait, though, couldn't it?' She ran a hand gently down his arm, and he turned towards her.

'I think it could,' he admitted. 'I can see to the lice in the morning.'  
'And the gangrene.'  
'And the trench foot.'  
'What's that?'  
'It's...' he stopped as she began to undo his shirt buttons and took a deep breath. 'It's what they get when their feet are wet and cold all the time. They go rotten.'  
'That's disgusting.'  
'Thank you,' he said with what he hoped was a dashing smile.

He kissed her, and felt the familiar sensation that he was holding both a woman and a mass of chaotic energy. Removing his shirt he laid it on the mud in what was, he admitted, a pointless gesture. War unbuttoned her own and laid it beside the other, covering almost enough mud for a person to lie on.  
She sat down on one shirt and slowly lay down, leaning on her elbows as she looked up at him. He lay down in the mud beside her, running a hand across the front of a surprisingly old-fashioned corset. 'Someone might see,' he said hesitantly. 'Famine, or Him, maybe. And who knows which of the angels and demons are walking the world?'  
'True,' she said. 'But it's been years since we last lay together, and if we're going to do it anywhere it should be here.'  
He nodded, recognising the truth she spoke. It _should _be here, and any supernatural forces walking abroad would know that whether they witnessed it or not. He ran a hand down her back, breaking the laces of the corset with a gesture and gently removing it..

Later they lay together in the mud, watching the small signs of life from the trenches. A light flared in the distance. 'One,' said War. The light moved. 'Two.' It moved again.  
The shot was fired before she'd finished saying 'Three.'


End file.
